Way Off Track
Thirteenth Greeting
Marrow was not extremely forthcoming with details about his obvious weariness when Clover confronted the secretary about it during their lunch hour. "My cousin's staying at my place for a bit," he explained, a worried frown strained upon his normally-vibrant, cheery expression. "It's just taking a while to get used to, since she's in a weird situation. I haven't had roommates since college."
Clover sighed. It didn't seem like the young man was lying, but he clearly wasn't telling the whole truth. "If you need help, ask," he chided. "No point in suffering quietly and affecting other parts of your life if it's all something you can take of sooner with help."
He didn't know if the unspoken, underlying message of, Don't cause any issues here if you can help it was actually received by the younger; however, the gratitude in Marrow's face was clear, so Clover backed off, letting himself focus on his client meetings for the week along with how to bring up another date to Qrow.
Although, realistically, their first meeting on Friday hadn't actually been a date. Qrow had said it himself; their little adventure to Crow Bar had been about paying Clover back for bringing Qrow's student's work to Beacon. If they met up again, it would be a proper date.
Clover groaned, staring at his phone as it sat idly on his desk. All day, the device had been taunting him. Should he do it? Should he not?
He already agreed to go out with you in some capacity over the weekend, his mind reminded him. It'll be fine.
It was almost shameful to admit how long his nervousness held him back, however. It was only once Clover was seated on the evening train back, his usual carriage unusually busy for a Monday, that he finally worked up the courage to message Qrow. The man squashed into the seat next to him was texting someone who was presumably his lover, and Clover was able to read the sappy exchange without much effort.
He wouldn't admit that the sight gave him courage, but maybe it did. Just a little.
To his immense relief, Qrow responded within a few minutes, replying once he had finished up a department meeting.
Dinner sounds good.
Heart in his throat, Clover messaged him a time for Tuesday evening; it would be Clover's treat. His finger hovered over the send button for a painfully-long time before finally confirming it, the word date in full view. He felt like he had back in his freshman days of college. It had been a simpler time back then. Living in an all-male dorm for four years hadn't been the easiest of things, but there had been definite advantages to the situation.
He banished those thoughts from his mind, spending the rest of his commute dazedly watching the young man in the seat next to him text heartwarming messages to his partner. Then, once he was on his way home, he jogged half the way, eager to make a reservation and get ready for the next night.
If he was looking at it from a competitive standpoint, Clover was working at a deficit; Qrow had gained such a huge influence on his life already thanks to how deep the rabbit hole went for his professional and academic work. Qrow wasn't the one listening to Clover's podcasts on his transit, after all. Qrow wasn't the one reading numerous academic papers on different sociological frameworks written by Clover. If Clover was going to win him over, he wanted to make some sort of an impression.
Twenty-four hours later, Maria was cooing at Clover's freshly-pressed button up and dress pants. The reservation had been made at a local eatery, which boasted a stunning view of Vale despite the less-than-reputable location. Clover was all ready to head out, a bundle of nerves that needed to just get the damn thing over with already because we might as well see if this is going to be an actual thing or not-
Maria insisted on blocking his path. He knew it was intentional, even if she pretended that it wasn't. "Oh, Clo," she asked, "you look like you're going out on a date!"
"Just meeting a friend for dinner, Mrs. Calavera," he replied calmly, trying to ignore the time ticking away on the clock in the lobby of the apartment complex. He wanted to be early, to greet the man on the platform.
Maria pouted, rolling her eyes, the movement magnified by her giant glasses. "Oh, I see," she said wearily. "Someone who isn't my granddaughter… I see how it is…"
Clover groaned. "Mrs. Calavera- Maria," he said, kneeling down in front of her, "you've already set me up with your daughter once. Please let it go with your granddaughter. I'm not looking to date; I'd be wasted on them." Also I'm gay. And hopefully, after tonight, taken.
His landlord shook her cane at him, gesturing for him to go. "Fine, fine. Go to your dinner! See if I care about having a handsome young son like you!" Her bitter pout and angry waddle did nothing to hide her annoyance. Still, his water was fixed and his rent was paid, and with all things considered, Maria wasn't actually a bad landlord, despite how silly she was. So, he shoved the interaction into the back of his mind and headed to the subway.
The moment red eyes alighted onto the platform on the stop right beside University Station, Clover had a smile and an umbrella waiting. "Hey there," Clover grinned.
Qrow, clearly having just finished a lecture with an ungainly bag slung over his shoulder, sent him an embarrassed smile back, eyes lingering up and down Clover's well-dressed figure. "Did you dress up for me?"
"Maybe."
He was smug as Qrow's smile grew, ears tinging pink. Then, they were off.
Dinner was an easygoing affair. Just as promised, Qrow shared more about his personal life this time- over a plate of salmon, the professor told Clover all about his nieces. Ruby and Yang were both students at Beacon, it turned out, although Yang was in Kinesiology and Ruby was in their Social Work program. "The two brats keep hanging out at my place every few weeks," Qrow groaned, stabbing at his broccoli bitterly. "You'd think they'd get over hanging out with their uncle, but no."
Clover didn't mind listening to the man ramble on, eagerly encouraging him to continue. It was preferable than sharing his own sordid, yet dull history; there was not much to say in Clover's life. He had been fairly successful, done well all throughout school and college, endured high society in Atlas, and then…
Robyn.
And that wasn't a story for a second- or first, depending on how you counted it- date.
Thankfully, Qrow was a talker, especially with a few drinks in him. Clover was spared, allowing himself to instead just relax in the other man's presence, soaking in the sheer joy exuded from every pore as he spoke about his nieces with pride.
The cheque came at last, and Clover put down his card without hesitation. Qrow grinned, pretending to fan himself in flustered awe. "Damn, I feel so pampered. I can't remember the last time I ate this much for free."
"You treated me last time."
"Yeah, to pub food."
"Don't feel bad. Crow Bar was great, but you're forgetting the fact that we clearly have different goals here," Clover laughed.
Leaning forward, Qrow propped his chin up on his hand, the pretense of curiosity destroyed by the knowing twinkle in his eye. "Oh yeah? What's your goal, boy scout?"
Clover reached out, lifting Qrow's chin off his hand and taking that hand in his own, discretely intertwining their fingers under the table. "To win you over," he said. "Is it working?"
To his horror, Qrow merely shrugged. "Meh. I'm more into cheap drinks and food." Clover gawped at his clear shut-down until Qrow relaxed, shaking his head. "I guess the eye candy is good enough, too." His gaze ran up and down Clover again, teasing despite its obvious meaning.
On the surface, Clover rolled his eyes, taking a drink with the most exasperated expression he could. "You're such an ass, you old crow," he groaned. On the inside, however, he couldn't hold back his joy, and the hand held within his was more than enough to make him realize that this thing they had was actually happening. It was real.
After a moment, however, Qrow asked, eyes focused on passersby on the sidewalk outside of the window, "I guess I should start planning how to win you over, too."
"No need."
"What, I don't even get a chance?"
"Nah. You had a head start. I call cheating."
The conversation tapered off into quiet murmurs, barely audible above the sound of the music playing in the background and the din of other diners; but Clover didn't mind. It was just an excuse to lean closer, speak softer, smile sweeter. Qrow didn't seem to mind it, either.